You are not Your Skin
by Zythtariel
Summary: What if Erik fell out of love with Christine? What if there was another dancer at the Opera Populaire who, like him, was hurt and scarred but in a less visible way? How much would change if he fell in love with her?
1. Prologue

Hello, this is a phan phic that I've wanted to write for a while now. I started one once but it sucked. Royally. Thanks for checking it out and please review to let me know what you think. For anyone who's curious Gelaina is a name I got from the word "gealach," which is Irish for moon, and Ochere is from the Irish word for night. In case you hadn't guessed, my character is Irish.

Summary- What if Erik fell _out _of love with Christine? What if there was another dancer at the Opera Populaire who, like him, was scarred and hurt but in a less visible way? How much would change if he fell in love with her?

Disclaimer- I own only Gelaina Ochere; the amazingness that is the Phantom of the Opera belongs solely to Gaston Leroux, Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Joel Schumacher.

Let the story begin! Meep.

Prologue

_A small girl shivers under the blankets on her bed. The storm raging outside her window is keeping her awake. A particularly loud bolt of thunder and a frighteningly close lightning strike makes her shoot out of her bed and run to her parents' room. She freezes in the doorframe and a small gasp of horror escapes her mouth. She backs away from the room shaking her head, tears starting to roll down her cheeks, eyes flickering back and forth between her father's unblinking stare on the floor and her mother's bloody corpse on the bed. Before she can scream a large hand wraps around her frail arm and flings her across the hall. She slams into a wall and crumples to the ground. She blinks slowly as she watches a large pair of boots approach her, then blacks out as a knife enters her abdomen. _

Gelaina starts awake, tasting blood in her mouth from biting down on her tongue to hard. She traced the scars on her stomach, seven of them. All had been very deep, it was a miracle she'd survived, the doctors had exclaimed. Her body barely survived that night, but her spirit burned bright with determination. Gelaina hadn't spoken a word to anyone since that night, something that still worried Aunt Giry even though it had been eight years. The girls in the opera house had given up after a week of trying to talk to her.

Two years after arriving at the opera house, Gelaina had found a small room with a beautiful piano in it. She'd started to play the tune to an old Gaelic lullaby and slowly, she'd started to sing the words. Her voice was rough from disuse, but it had begun to clear and the words of _Caisleán Druim Mór _surrounded her_._

_Deireadh Fómhair gaotha caoineadh_

_Timpeall an caisleán an Droma Mhóir_

_Tá Ach síochána ina hallaí ard,_

_Mo siopa Treasure grámhara_

_Cé go d'fhéadfadh duilleoga an fhómhair droop agus bás,_

_A bud an earraigh tú_

_Can hushabye loo, íseal loo, íseal lan_

_Hushabye loo, íseal loo_

_Biotáille dread gach ceann de na uisce dubh,_

_MBean fiáin Clan Owen_

_Aon gaoithe tinn a thabhairt dó ná dúinn,_

_Mo leanbh cabhrú less agus mé_

_Can hushabye loo, íseal loo, íseal lan_

_Hushabye loo, íseal loo_

_Agus Naomh-Mhuire pitying linn_

_Chun Heaven do doth cairde agairt a dhéanamh_

_Tóg am a rathú, mo gha an dóchais,_

_Sa ghairdín an Droma Mhóir_

_Can hushabye loo, íseal loo, íseal lan_

_Hushabye loo, íseal loo_

_Tóg heed, choileán óg, till thy sciatháin_

_An bhfuil feathered oiriúnach go n-ardóidh_

_A chuid eile beag agus ansin_

_Tá an domhan iomlán oibre a dhéanamh_

_A chuid eile beag agus ansin_

_Tá an domhan iomlán oibre a dhéanamh_

_Can hushabye loo, íseal loo, íseal lan_

_Hushabye loo, íseal loo_

Since that night, she'd gone to that little room whenever she was flooded by memories and sung whatever came to mind. Gelaina sighed and stood, clearing her head before lighting a candle and heading to the room. A pair of light blue eyes watched her curiously as she exited the room, before turning toward the sleeping face of a beautiful brunette chorus girl.


	2. Chapter 1

Gelaina laughed under her breath. They were practicing _Hannibal, _again, a week before the actual performance and Carlotta was standing at the edge of the stage yelling at Monsieur Lefevre and her attendants. Though she was supposed to be paying attention to her Aunt, Gelaina found it much more entertaining to watch the manager try to appease Carlotta with gifts and endless flattery. Besides, she'd memorized the dance the first time they'd practiced it.

"Gelaina!" Giry's angry voice made her head snap forward. Glancing around to see what she'd done now, Gelaina blushed as she realized that everyone else had stopped dancing to listen to instructions from Madame Giry. She lowered her arms slowly and placed her feet in first position.

"While we always enjoy seeing examples of your _superb_ dancing, next time listen to me instead of laughing at Carlotta." The other ballerinas snickered while, cheeks burning and jaw clenched, Gelaina nodded. Giry gave a couple quick instructions to a few of the girls who hadn't gotten the hang of the dance yet, and then they resumed dancing.

Erik chuckled lightly as he watched the red head -Gelaina- Madame Giry had just yelled at go back to dancing with a furious glint in her emerald eyes. He let his gaze drift over to Christine and a sigh escaped his lips. Her beauty always left him awestruck. His eyes darted back to the left of the stage when he heard a thud. The little red head was on the floor with a small grimace of pain on her features; Carlotta had just walked through the rehearsing dancers and Gelaina had been unfortunate enough to be the first one in her way. The girls were smart enough to move after seeing what had happened to Gelaina. Monsieur Lefevre chased after Carlotta, pausing momentarily to apologize to Madame Giry. He felt sorry for the girl; the prima donna was not known for being gentle. _Thank god she'll be gone soon,_ Erik thought to himself.

Gelaina got to her feet slowly, limping slightly and rubbing her backside; the floor was _not _soft. She waved the other girls away as they swarmed around her, asking if she was ok. _I'm limping, what the bloody hell do you think?_ She thought grumpily. Madame Giry came over with an annoyed look on her face and quickly looked at her ankle. It was red and had started to swell a little. She told two of the girls to help Gelaina to the dormitories, then went back to teaching the dancers. Gelaina again waved the girls away and started toward the dormitories on her own, changing direction once out of sight and heading to her music room instead.


	3. Chapter 2

Erik was pacing the hidden corridors of the opera house, trying to think of the best way to execute his plan to get Carlotta to leave. He knew he'd have to do it the day of the performance, that way the manager wouldn't have time to find anyone else. Madame Giry would suggest Christine as soon as they were in danger of being unable to perform, but how could he get Carlotta to leave? She was easy to anger; he could always try dropping something on her. One of the backgrounds would do nicely. Nodding to himself, Erik started towards his lair. He slowed as a soft melody drifted to his ears. It was slow, sad, and haunting, and played by a very skilled hand. Erik stopped walking completely as a voice, clearer than a bell and sad, oh so sad, joined the tune.

_Paint yourself a picture_

_Of what you wish you looked like_

_Maybe then they just might…_

_Feel an ounce of your pain…_

The voice faded away and Erik could only marvel after it, the voice had been even more beautiful than Christine's, but to whom did it belong? As it started singing again, he found himself walking, trying desperately to find the owner.

_Come into focus_

_Step out of the shadows_

_It's a losing battle_

_There's no need… to be… ashamed…_

He found it coming from a small room that he had once used when composing music, he'd left the piano there, not thinking anyone would find the hidden door in the wall. Obviously someone had. He looked through the one-sided window he placed in all his rooms. Seated on the piano bench, was the little red head from rehearsals, Gelaina. She seemed in the process of writing the song, she was writing something on a piece of paper. The pen hovered above the paper for a moment, then a glint appeared in her eye and she continued writing for several minutes. She paused again then nodded and set the pen down. Her fingers slid to the keys and the song started playing again, starting over.

_Paint yourself a picture _

_Of what you wish you looked like_

_Maybe then they just might_

_Feel an ounce of your pain_

_Come into focus_

_Step out of the shadows_

_It's a losing battle_

_There's no need to be ashamed_

_Cause they don't even know you_

_All they see is scars_

_They don't see the angel _

_Living in your heart_

_Let them find the real you _

_Buried deep within_

_Let them know with all you got_

_That you are not your skin_

_Oh, oh_

_When they start to judge you_

_Show them your true colors_

_And do unto others_

_What you'd have done to you_

_Just rise above this_

_Kill them with your kindness_

_Ignorance is blindness_

_They're the ones that stand to lose_

_Cause they don't even know you_

_All they see is scars_

_They don't see the angel_

_Living in your heart_

_Let them find the real you _

_Buried deep within_

_Let them know with all you got_

_That you are not your skin_

_…_

_Ohhh ohhh oh_

_…_

_They don't even know you!_

_All they see is scars!_

_They don't see the angel_

_Living in your heart!_

_Let them find the real you_

_Buried deep within_

_Let them know with all you got_

_That you are not, you are not your skin_

Erik watched in amazement as Gelaina brushed the tear from her cheek and exited the room, blowing out the candle and leaving the papers behind. He stepped cautiously into the room and sat on the bench. He quickly relit the candle and look at the music sheets in front of him. Picking up the song she'd just written, he scanned over it, surprised at how well he could relate to the lyrics. He set the song gently on the bench and shuffled through the other papers. All songs, all rather sad. Two of the choruses grabbed his attention.

"Well I've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show

And I thought that being strong meant never losing your self-control

But I'm just gone enough to let go of my pain

To hell with my pride

Let it fall like rain, from my eyes

Tonight I want to cry"

"I tear my heart open I sew myself shut

My weakness is that I care too much

And my scars remind me that the past is real

I tear my heart open just to feel"

Erik set the papers down and looked around the room. A copy of a Torres guitar rested in one corner, a small stack of books sat in front of it. A few pillows and blankets formed a sort of nest in another corner and small supply of candles and matches sat in a box by the door. Another small book lay open in the center of the nest. Curious, Erik stepped close enough to the book to read _1870_ on the cover. He picked up the book and read the page it was on.

_Dear Journal,_

_I dreamed about the night my parents died again. That's the first time in a while, so I guess I can be happy for that reason. Sometimes I wish I could forget that it ever happened, though that would cause slight confusion on my part when I woke up and saw seven unexplainable scars on my stomach and I was unable to find my parents, nevermind the fact that I'd go form eight to sixteen overnight. Anyway, at the moment I think I'm glad it happened. I'll never stop missing them of course, it will always sadden me that they can't be with me, but surviving that night has made me who I am. I can't change that and I wouldn't want to. I think I'm almost ready to talk, not just yet though. There's something I need to do first…_

_September 22__nd__, 1870_

Wondering what had happened to Gelaina, Erik went to the other books hoping that they too would be journals. He was disappointed to find that instead they were a stack of Jules Verne novels (tee hee). Still determined to find out what had happened to Gelaina, Erik decided to go visit a woman who knew everything about each of her dancers. Erik closed the journal and quickly blew out the candle as he left.

A/N: The song is "Skin" by Sixx:A.M., the first chorus is from "Tonight I wanna Cry" by Keith Urban, and the last chorus from "Scars" by Papa Roach.


	4. Chapter 3

"Madame Giry."

Madame Giry turned, surprised. Erik stood behind her. "Erik." Her lips pressed in a firm line.

"I require information about one of the dancers." Straight to the point, odd.

"Oh? And whom might that be?"

"Gelaina."

"What on earth has my niece done to earn your attentions? She doesn't even speak to anyone."

He looked angered, "Who are you to question me? I didn't recognize her at rehearsals and wish know of those who live in my opera house!"

Giry studied him for a moment. He seemed almost… nervous. And he was blushing, just a little. She sighed; Erik was like a small child, impossible to refuse. "Very well, come on." She opened the door to her office and they both stepped inside.

She sat down at her desk and put a hand to her head as she started to talk, "Gelaina Ochere's story is not a pretty one. It starts like a fairytale, in a way. She is my sister's child, Carissa Giry, who fell in love with the young Irishman, Aiden Ochere. She was a beautiful child, golden-red hair, sparkling bright green eyes, and an oddly devilish grin. She had a beautiful voice too, like an angel's. They traveled the country, performing as a family. People used to travel from all over to hear her sing. Everyone loved her. But that love came with a horrible price.

"Eight years ago, a man named Edwin Rechad heard her sing. I'm not sure why, or how, but hearing her drove him to insanity. He followed them home, waited for them to go to sleep, and broke into their house. There was massive storm outside; I guess they couldn't hear him over it. He smashed all the portraits, burned them, then crept upstairs and went Carissa and Aiden's room. He killed both of them. Gelaina woke up; I've always assumed she was scared by the storm. She ran to her parents' room, saw them dead. Edwin threw against the wall. He stabbed her in the stomach seven times and left her for dead. A visiting friend found them. Gelaina was almost dead; the doctors swore she wouldn't live another night. But she did.

"Everyone said it was a miracle, I say it was a strong little girl refusing to go out so easily. A few days later, they found Edwin in a bar. Drunkenly bragging about what he'd done, when asked why he'd done it he said it was because of her voice. It was too beautiful to be human. Gelaina overheard one of the investigators telling me what he'd said, as far as I know she hasn't spoken a word or sung a note since. I had her become a dancer here because I thought being around girls her age would help her open up. It didn't work, but she seems to be happy, that's all I can hope for.

Madame Giry looked to Erik as she finished the story. His face was a mix between horror, anger, and sorrow. She leaned forward and took his hand, sighing again. "I don't know what Gelaina has done to gain your interest, I honestly don't care. But if you hurt her in any way, I will destroy you. Just understand that."

Erik stared at her, obviously shocked, as she shooed him from the room. He ran his fingers through his hair as the door closed in his face, and huffed, "Well, that was unexpected."

A/N: randomness, Erik's hair is real. Basically for sexiness factor.


	5. Chapter 4

Gelaina sighed as she tied the cloak around her shoulders. She was dressed in a drab, dark green dress of a simple fashion, with a slim skirt instead of the wide hoops worn by ladies of fashion. She pulled the hood of the cloak over her head, tucking the copper strands of her hair inside before bending to check the laces of her boots. Pulling them tight, she straightened and turned to the door.

She slid through the halls of the opera house and stepped outside toward the stables. She saddled one of the horses and left a note for the stable boy. After seating herself on the horse, she tugged her hood forward again so that it covered her face. She lightly tapped the horse's sides with her heels and flicked the reins against its neck, causing it to spurt forward in a gallop, then turned it in the direction of the cemetery where her parents were buried.

She dropped from the horse when she arrived in front of the Giry family crypt, though her father had been Irish and her mother had taken his name by marrying him they were buried in Paris because her father's family had disowned him. He'd never gone into detail about it, and Gelaina had never met any of the family on her father's side. She doubted they even knew of her existence, or that Aiden Ochere was dead.

She sank to the ground in front of the crypt, her eyes stinging as memories of her parents and her old life flooded her mind. Her father's smile every time she looked to him and the little wink he gave her whenever she was nervous. Her mother humming some Irish lullaby that her husband had just taught her but she couldn't remember the words to. Running straight into her father's arms after each performance and her mother coming up behind them and hugging them both. She took a deep breath and spoke her first unsung words in eight years as the first tear rolled down her cheek.

"I don't know if you can hear me, or if you're even there. I hope you're in heaven; I comfort myself with the thought that you're in a better place. I miss you both terribly. It breaks my hear-" she paused as a lump rose in her throat. "It breaks my heart every time I think of you, yet at the same time I'm happiest when I remember when you were with me. I don't know why I'm doing this. Closure, perhaps? Assuring myself that you really are gone? I wish that all of us could have survived that night, not just me. I guess I'm just the lucky one cursed with the horrible memories. I wish… I wish that you could give me a sign, just do something to let me know that you're listening and that you're with me even though I can't see you. That's probably hoping for a little to much though."

She wiped away the few tears that had rolled down her cheeks and slowly stood, unable to think anything else to say. She mounted the horse and prodded it forward into a slow trot. A metallic creak sounded behind her and she slowly turned back to the crypt. One of the lights inside winked at her several times, she smiled and laughed lightly, turning forward again and taking the horse back to a gallop.

Erik smiled and watched Gelaina leave. He honestly couldn't explain what just happened, he had followed her to the cemetery and hidden behind one of the angels as he listened to her speak. Her voice was light and soft; full of the sorrow he knew she carried, yet still beautiful. He had watched her leave and heard the creak as she did, turned to face the crypt again as she did and had seen the winking light as she did. He didn't try to understand it, he just knew it had made her laugh, and smile. For some odd reason, that made him happy.


End file.
